


The Best Laid Plans

by Pandemic



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Jane Austen Fusion, Alternate Universe - Regency, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 03:25:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5441693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandemic/pseuds/Pandemic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Antonia finds out she is not that good at matchmaking, should probably listen to what her heart is trying to tell her, and the enigma that is Natasha Romanov intrigues everyone.</p><p>Or the Jane Austen’s Emma AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Laid Plans

**A** ntonia Stark, pretty, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and a happy disposition, was incredibly fortunate to live an incredibly comfortable life; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex her.

She was the only child of a most affectionate and indulgent mother; and had, as such, the use of their sprawling household as she saw fit. Hartfield was a large estate, and her mother often commented on how she brought movement and noise into it, the lifeblood of its brick walls. Her father had died too long ago for him to be any more than a whisper of a thought; and his place had been supplied by an excellent man as household butler Jarvis, who had fallen little short of a father in affection.

Jarvis had been in the family for seventeen years, less as a butler and more of a highly disapproving yet amused uncle with an alarming fondness for Antonia which included sighing and hiding her ridiculous schemes from her mother. The use of the term butler had all but ceased, and the shadow of any authority he may hold over Antonia (aside her desperate wish to please him) had all but dissipated. This left Antonia to do whatever she liked; always heeding Jarvis’s judgement, but never at the expense of her own.

This left her often in trouble within the ton. She had been well educated and, with no firm hand of a father, was never told off for speaking her mind within the household. Unfortunately for those around her, this transferred over into society’s gatherings, unable to resist the temptation of showing those up who think themselves better. Despite the Stark’s family money that always opened doors that would prefer to stay shut, her outspoken and erroneous ways left her wanting for most companionship, and her dance card was often left almost blank, not even the hardiest of bachelors wishing to contend with her wicked tongue. Not that this swayed her.

This particular evening, Antonia was busying herself with pulling apart her late father’s pocketwatch, if only to put it back together again. The pieces within were worn from this now regular routine, but she enjoyed noting how the mechanism worked, how it continued to work no matter the changes made to it.  _Beautifully immovable,_ she mused with a smirk.

“A Captain Rogers to see you Antonia.” Jarvis spoke from the doorway, acting the part of loyal houseservant if only for a moment.

“Oh do not bow Steven, it sits so poorly on you.” Antonia grinned, and rose up to bounce on her heels. Steven was the most intimate family friend she knew of. Whilst Antonia might be the lifeblood of Hartfield, Steven was very easily the unshakeable foundations that stayed unchanging throughout her life.

If Antonia thinks hard, she remembers Steven’s first arrival at Hartfield, under the wing of his mother. She remembers very little of Sarah Rogers, aside from being awestruck by her beauty. She had been a small woman with such delicate and pale features you wondered whether they had been carved in marble. Yet they did little to hide the humour ever present in her eyes, or the ferocious love she had for her son that came first miles before anything else.

If Antonia truly thinks about herself, she thinks she probably only remembers little of Sarah Rogers simply because Steven had eclipsed her in every way.

_“You look like Ferric.” Antonia giggled and Steven looked down at her indulgently. She was only ten to his sixteen, and as such he quickly adopted a role as her protector in chief._

_“Are you telling me I look like your foal?” Steven mused, a grin trembling at the corners of his mouth._

_“Yes! All legs and angles and no coordination whatsoever!” Antonia had laughed, a barking sound not at all ladylike, yet when Steven joined in with her she thought it was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard._

Steven now lived but a mile from Hartfield, visiting often to her mother’s delight; who loved him every part as much as she did Antonia, apparently for his “words of advice and wisdom”. He split his time between his own sprawling estate and London where he visited his friends from his time in the infantry often. Antonia loved her mother dearly, but her inability to relinquish the hold on her was close to stifling at times. She had never travelled beyond Highbury, never visited the world as she so longingly wished to. How she wished, every time they waved Steve off, to just jump into the carriage and ride off with him to London!

But Steven did have a cheerful and pleasant manner that hid a sickeningly dry delivery of humour that had all those around him reaching for their sides in laughter, and as such was highly sought after and respected within town.

Why he chose to associate with Antonia, the town (and Antonia herself) had no idea.

“I was merely stooping to look your unkempt state, Antonia, is wearing your nightclothes  _out_ of your bedroom a particular fashion statement? Maybe I should bring my own to match.” Steven delivered with a smirk and a glint of humour in his eye, and Antonia felt an unbecoming flush rising to her face, hurrying to put herself together. This side effect of Steven’s attention was becoming increasingly hard to bear, making itself apparent this past season.

“I have been too busy to think about appearances Steven.” She waved him off, “I have far too much to do to concern myself with how I look.”

“Well at least make yourself presentable, Miss Hill is arriving shortly.” Steven reprimands slightly, and Antonia groans.

“Oh please God have me mercy on my soul, has she received another  _wonderful_ letter from her niece?” Antonia moans, ignoring the stern look Steven rewards her with.

“Antonia, be kind. She has … come down in the world these past years and we have to look after her.” He speaks softly, and Antonia has to ignore the little part of her that wants to nod and agree to anything the man has to say.

“I know, I know. But it’s just Natasha seems to write to her aunt every week and she seems to gain at least eight accomplishments in between one and the next! And Miss Hill seems to make it her life’s mission to come here every week to tell us about them!”  Antonia moans as both Jarvis and Steven smuggle a grin.

* * *

 

Natasha Romanov was an orphan, the only child of the elder Mrs Hill’s youngest daughter.

There was very little to remember her parents by, the marriage of Lieut. Romanov to Miss Jane Bates accompanied only by the memory of him dying in action abroad – and of his widow sinking under grief soon afterward.

The compassion of a friend of her father changed her destiny from an orphan to be brought up at Highbury with no advantages, connections or improvement. Colonel Coulson had always held high esteem for the late Romanov for he had saved Coulson’s life in the infantry. He sought the child out and took notice of her, bringing her up within his household to such a degree of success he undertook the whole charge of her education to be brought up for educating others.

Natasha Romanov had been exceedingly lucky, or at least as lucky as an orphan could be. She had the good fortune to fall into good hands, knowing nothing but kindness from the Coulsons, and given an excellent education. However her childhood before the Coulson’s had been bitter – if the rumour mill was to be believed – with a mother neglecting her in her haze of grief to the point of abuse.

It was perhaps those reasons that she was so quiet (to be fair, a quality most men held in high respect that Antonia had the luck of not possessing) and meek. Steve had argued her case in a heated debate with Antonia one evening.

“It does not matter the  _luck_ she has been dealt with. Imagine living day to day with the sobering thought that if the daughters of the Colonel had suitors, and Natasha found herself in the way of those – and with her being as attractive to the male eye as she is rumoured to be this is sure to occur – that the Colonel would send her from the house without a second thought? Not out of spite, but out of success for his daughters. Antonia, you have never been collateral and so I understand that you cannot see this but be fair to the girl. You cannot live a fully happy life with that hanging over your head!”

Happy life or not, Antonia would admit to hosting a certain… jealousy towards Miss Romanov. Despite the nasty tongue rumours could have, the words on Miss Romanov were nothing but achingly pleasant and praise-filled. Oh how  _elegant_  Miss Romanov was, how well she carried herself. Her height was pretty, her figure graceful, not like Antonia’s almost garishly tall features that Steve poked fun at regularly. Her face was a graceful beauty, one that did not slap you in the face but one you would remember and wish to see again. Her hair fiery, a memorable dash of colour against a pale face.

In hindsight, Antonia realises that perhaps jealousy coloured the majority of her feelings toward Miss Romanov, and made her unkind in the first instance. And, well, can you blame the pair for being at war from then on?

* * *

 

“Natasha’s writing is always so very handsome. I do say she writes the most handsome letters I have ever read. Wouldn’t you say it is handsome? She’s so kind, taking the time out of her busy life to write to me.”

Miss Hill stood in what was considered the very worst predicament in the world, despite holding much public favour; she was neither young, handsome, rich, nor married. She had no intellectual superiority to excuse this particular fate, never boasting beauty or cleverness. She was plain in the saddest and ugliest sense of the world, nothing to become her both inside and out. And yet she seemed a happy woman; the simplicity and cheerfulness of her nature insured that very little could be said in negative of her.

Except, perhaps, the fact she seemed to live for the letters received from her niece, which she devoured voraciously and made sure everyone else around them were given recitals of them as well.

“Natasha is so very accomplished, there is nothing she cannot do. Do you know only last week she played the pianoforte to a room of the Colonel’s most esteemed guests, and they were all so very impressed. Have I told you her skill at the pianoforte Mrs Stark?”

Antonia’s mother nodded slowly, as though she wasn’t quite sure of whether her response was actually needed for the woman to continue on with no sign of stopping. Antonia perched on the edge of a seat, ready to run at a moment’s notice and looking toward Steven stood at the window. Rolling her eyes at the man and mouthing the words ‘help me’ simply had Steven silently laughing and shaking his head.

“She is so very adept at French, did you know? She speaks it as well as any native. French is such a romantic language, I have no doubt she will find a partner. Only someone as accomplished as herself of course. But in the Colonel’s circle there are bound to be many up to the challenge.”

“I’m going to ask Captain Rogers to teach me Chinese.” Antonia bolts headfirst into the conversation, earning her a stern look from Jarvis who sits to her mother’s right, and an indulgent look from her mother herself. Emboldened, she continues, “Do you think  _Natasha_ can speak Chinese?”

Miss Hill is only stopped but for a deliciously quiet moment, “I’m sure she could… Natasha is equal to anything, I’m sure Chinese would be only another latent ability yet uncovered. Did I tell you she is halfway through a reading list featuring 100 titles? One hundred!”

“I did not know you could speak Chinese, Steven.” Antonia’s mother gracefully interjects, and she thinks everyone is thankful for the relief. Steven strides over from where he stood and grins, raking a hand through his hair.

“Yes, through my time served in the infantry it was discovered I had an affinity for languages and it was quickly put to good use. I do believe however, that myself and Miss Stark have some business to attend to, do excuse us.” Taking hold of Antonia’s elbow, he steers the pair of out the room and down the corridor.

“Oh thank you,  _thank you!_ ” Antonia praises as though she was praying at the altar. Steven only shakes his head.

“You were just going to end up in a bizarre one-upmanship between you and Miss Hill. I don’t think your mother needs to watch that.” Steven jibed, “Besides, Bruce is here from London and looking for you.”

“ _Bruce_ is here and you left me in a room with Miss Hill? I think you have a sadistic streak Captain.” She is all set to continue when he hears laughter from outside.

Antonia peers out the window to the gardens of Hartfield. Steven’s cousin was running amongst the hedgerows chasing a giggling Miss Ross. Bruce caught her around the waist and smiled down at her, a sight rarely seen from the overwhelmingly quiet man.

“They make a handsome couple.” Antonia mused.

“ _No_ , Antonia. None of your scheming. They are merely friends.” Steven chided.

Antonia refused to be swayed, “I don’t think so Steve. Natasha Romanov may be the champion of the written word or pianoforte; but  _people_ , their hopes, dreams, aspirations. There I am the expert.”

“Really?” Steve asks, smirking before his voice goes quiet, pondering, “I don’t suppose you can tell if I’ve got any hopes or dreams.” His eyes stayed fixed on Antonia a beat too long, causing her to fluster and the next words come out too close to biting.

“Not you, of course, you’re not the romantic sort.” Antonia bites out, missing Steve’s face falling, “But your cousin and Miss Ross…”

“Bruce and Betty? Surely not.”

“Surely yes! I have been scheming for the past six months now. It will be my greatest success.”

Steve pauses and Antonia can almost see the cogs turning, “And how do you surmise that? Success implies endeavor, Antonia. Just because you say 'I think it would be a fine thing if Miss Ross and Mr Banner were to marry' and then repeating it to yourself every so often, it's not the same as bringing it about." Steve chides gently, “If…  _IF_ they were to get married, it is because they themselves wish to, not because you have schemed it.”

Antonia nods with an innocent look that she knows isn’t fooling anyone.

* * *

 

“I, Elizabeth Ross, do take thee, Bruce Banner, to be my wedded husband.”

“Say nothing,” Steve hissed with little rancour and Antonia could not cease the smug grin painted across her face, “This does not prove you as a matchmaker, but simply that you made a lucky guess.”

Antonia frowns, “Nothing lucky about it. Just talent, and intuition.” She boasts, watching as the sides of Steve’s lips quirk up in an all too familiar gesture that meant he was trying to stop from smiling.

“Now… who next.” She mutters, mostly to herself, far too delighted with herself to note a worried look from her companion.

* * *

 

Now, despite the evidence to the contrary, Mrs Stark was fond of society, and society fond of her. But this was in her own way. She loved having her friends to visit, and these fell into different causes and categories. From her long residence at Hartfield (for she and Mr Stark had wedded young, and sadly he had died young too), her good nature, her fortune, her beauty, her intelligence, and her daughter, she could dictate visits of her own inner circle as much as she liked. She was not for want of company, but she did find large parties and late hours a horror – aside that of the company of Captain Steven, who fell into a category entirely unique that spared him the judgement of Maria Stark.

Intimate evening party dinners were what she preferred, steering the conversation in a manner perfectly suited to her role as hostess. And she could also completely destroy her dinner mates in a game of cards so gracefully you could not complain.

Long standing regard had brought the Reeds and the Xaviers (though Maria had often admitted she bore the company of the heads of house only for the delight in company of their two children); and by Mr Hammer, a young man living alone without liking it, the privilege of exchanging any evening he found himself idle for the elegancy of Mrs Stark’s drawing room.

After these, came a second set; of whom were Mrs and Miss Hill, and Mrs May, three ladies who would grab at any invitation to Hartfield and whom were fetched and carried home so often that Mrs Stark thought James and the horses knew the journey by heart.

Mrs May was the mistress of a real and honest old-fashioned boarding school where girls were sent, often to be out of the way, and work their way into an education, but never enough to be boastful. The school was held in high repute – Mrs May keeping the children in a house of ample house and garden that in the summer opened its impressive bay doors to the sun to allow the children to bask in the warmth, and in the winter cultivated a fire so hearty it kept the house warm enough to wander without winter clothes.

It was no wonder that a train of twenty young girls followed her to church like ducklings. Mrs May was a plain woman but who bore the brunt of hard work in her youth and as such felt she deserved a seat at Hartfield, occasionally losing a few sixpences at Maria’s fireside through a particular thrilling game of cards.

Antonia often found herself walking through to the boarding school at her mother’s behest, who had society’s etiquette of keeping a friendship stoked drilled into her. So she found herself strolling there one morning, spotting Miss Hill sat outside in deep conversation with Mrs May, and waved enthusiastically in a manner not becoming for a young woman, but a manner good enough for Antonia Stark.

As she approached she saw Miss Hill’s features school into slight disapproval, “Miss Stark.” She started, “Walking alone?”

Antonia sat at the seat proffered by Mrs May and accepted the cup of tea she poured with a nod, “Why yes.”

Miss Hill gasped slightly, “But it is not safe. And now Miss Ross has become Mrs Banner you must find a walking companion. What if you had walked into the  _gypsies_?” she says the last word quietly, hushed.

“Oh but they are on the west fields. Beside, Captain Rogers says they are not the bad sort of travellers, they come here every year.” Antonia spoke quickly, smiling, watching as Miss Hill shook her head.

“Are you here to call on Miss Potts?” Mrs May speaks up before Miss Hill can scold Antonia further, and Antonia is grateful for the interruption.

“I am, Mrs May, I believe she is home from her vacation?”

Miss Virginia ‘Pepper’ Potts was the natural daughter of somebody. Someone had placed her in Mrs May’s care a few years back, and her beauty and intelligence had shone through to the interest of Highbury. That, however, was all that was generally known of her history. Despite their similarities, Antonia did not spend as much time as she wished in the girl’s company. Pepper had been away, as far as Antonia had been aware, to see some of her friends in the country who had been at school there with her. She walked toward the camp of Miss Hill, Mrs May and Antonia with a shy gait that Antonia was forever trying to train out of her.

“Miss Stark it is a pleasure to see you again, how have you been in my absence?” Pepper smiles and takes an awkward perch on one of the parlour seats.

“I have been well,  _Pepper_. Antonia stresses the name hoping it will lead to Pepper using forenames as well, “How was your stay in the country? I do hope it was pleasant.”

Antonia was always struck by how Pepper could hide remarkably clever musings within a shy and faltering countenance. The intelligence, and beauty, of the girl could not be wasted on the inferior society of Highbury and its connections. The acquaintances she had formed on her stay away in the country were unworthy of her. The friends from whom she had just parted, although very good sorts of people if what Pepper was saying was to be true, must be doing her harm.

They were a family of the name Rhodes, whom Antonia knew the father as a particularly good character, as renting a large farm of Captain Rogers and residing in the parish of Donwell. She knew Captain Rogers thought highly of the son, an intelligent man he had always said had time for a passionate debate and knew himself well. But they could not possibly be polished enough for Pepper. She would improve her, detach her from her bad acquaintances and introduce her into good society and form her opinions and manners. It would be an interesting, and certainly very kind undertaking.

She was just so good with people.

* * *

 

Antonia was grateful for her life, of course. She knew of the evils of this world, of the poverty she could have been born into had fate been so unkind. And as such, she knew it was indulgent to be churlish toward her circumstance. But she sometimes wished for a mother not quite so tight-fisted in her affections that meant a complete inability to leave anywhere more than ten miles from Hartfield. She watched Bruce, able to come and go as he pleased, and Steve talk of a time in the infantry, of friends from the ton, and wish she could follow them and have stories of her own.

Steve had been gone nearly three weeks, and Antonia had found very little else to do. Managing an estate when you had a large income at your disposal was far easier than you would think, Antonia able to cast off most roles to the houseservants. She had taken a stroll as far as Steve’s main quarters at Donwell before returning home, and had fallen into discussions at church with Mr Hammer during Sunday mass, but other than that she found herself at want for things to do.

It was such a fate she found himself in one Friday afternoon before she noticed a broad figure cutting a swathe across the garden toward Hartfield.

Antonia’s face launched into a grin, before she turned and ran the steps down to the front door. If Jarvis noted her reaction, and her mother noted the quick change from sombre to joyful upon Captain Rogers’ return, neither said anything.

**Author's Note:**

> Well this was a beast to wrestle into coherency. Updates every third day.
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](http://www.youaremylodestar.tumblr.com).


End file.
